


ISN 2 Draft

by Writer1823



Category: Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:06:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26964898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writer1823/pseuds/Writer1823
Summary: *this a draft of a series I'm rewriting
Comments: 43
Kudos: 48





	1. Diagon Alley

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to get a couple chapters done before posting but I really couldn't help myself and I needed to post this chapter before it got waaayyyy too long!

Your summer home was very uneventful. It was almost _boring._ Snape and McGonagall had given you loads of summer homework to finish before returning to school and you had barely even begun to skim even the top of the gargantuan pile. On the bright side, since you were back home you could write in pen and not one of those stupid, scratchy quills. They were impossible to hold and even worse to write with. You had much preferred your black, BIC pen.

You settled down on one of Snape’s worksheets- **_THE USES OF FLOBBERWORM MUCUS IN POTION MAKING._** Giving a great sigh, you started to write: 

_Flobberworm mucus is especially important in potion making due to its-_

You hesitated. _What even is Flobberworm mucus?_ Thankfully, you didn’t have to stew on this question for too long. An owl had arrived with a letter from your friend, Theo. Making good on his promise to write during the summer, he sent a letter nearly every day. Sadly, most of his responses were delayed. Post from England to America sucked and so each of his letters arrived days later. You broke the wax seal on the letter and read: 

_Dear Y/n,_

_My family is staying in Diagon Alley in two weeks to get school supplies for the term. It's hard to believe I’m in my third-year already! I asked Braedan and Lydia about getting their equipment, but they already went earlier in the summer. Didn’t you mention in one of your previous letters that you were to arrive soon? It would be really nice to see you again before term._

_On another note, I’ve decided to try out for the Ravenclaw Quidditch team this year. Daniel McBride left last year, so now there’s a spot open for a Chaser. I think we could have a good chance of winning the Quidditch cup this year and before you ask, yes I do believe we could even stand a chance of beating Gryffindor and your friend, Potter._

_Let me know when you’re thinking of coming back to England- we can meet up at Diagon Alley._

_Your friend,_

_Theodore_

You smiled. You missed all of your friends desperately- especially Hermione, Harry, and Ron. After tackling a two-ton troll and foiling Voldemort’s attempt to come back using the Philosopher’s Stone, you were bonded for life. There were things that just made people come together and facing mortal peril no once, but twice in a year would do it. 

You had written to Ron, Hermione, and Harry all summer. Hermione had responded when she could- but she was on vacation in France, Ron responded with the most consistency (ironic knowing him), and Harry hadn’t responded yet at all. You found it slightly weird that one of your best friends wouldn’t write back but you just assumed that maybe his uncle wouldn’t let him. From the stories Harry had told you about his extended family, it was a miracle he had even made it to Hogwarts in the first place. 

Still, you longed to talk to Harry most of all. Both of you were the only two to face Quirrell and Voldemort last year and you were still flooded with questions. Why would Voldemort keep you alive? Will he find a way to come back? Why would Voldemort mark Harry for an early death but wish for you to live? None of it made sense. 

The boredom of your long summer break did nothing to keep these thoughts and anxieties away. For hours you would lay awake at night, afraid to go to sleep. When you did fall asleep, you would wake up more restless and tired than before. The dreams you had last year of Voldemort had gotten worse and had become a more common occurrence. You wanted nothing more than to ask Harry about them because, for whatever reason, the two of you shared an inexplicable bond with the world’s most-feared wizard, and therefore, a bond with each other. 

You shook off these nagging questions and went to pen a response to Theo. 

_Dear Theo,_

_It seems as if I will be in Diagon Alley around the same time as you. I think Hermione and Ron will be, too! I would love to meet you when we get supplies for term. I will send another letter by owl-post when I arrive in London next week._

_As for you joining the Quidditch team, you should go for it! I think you’d be a good Chaser. However, as for you beating Gryffindor this year, I’m going to have to disagree. No Seeker you get could compete with Harry and we have the best Keeper, but I suppose we will just have to see._

_See you soon,_

_Y/N_

You tied the note to the owl and sent it off on its way. Only six more days and you would be well on your way back to the Wizarding world. 

Your week went by agonizingly slow. Your mom always seemed nervous when you returned to Hogwarts. Last year she had a mental breakdown when you got your letter and didn’t want you to return after Christmas holiday. This year her worries were heightened. You thought it must’ve had something to do with the whole troll thing in the bathroom last year and then coming face-to-face with Voldemort at the end of the school year. 

“You mustn't go looking for trouble this year, Y/n,” she said, helping you pack your trunk. 

“It’s not like I go _looking_ for trouble, mom. I didn’t intentionally fight-off Voldemort last year just for the fun of it,” you said. She flinched when you said his name, but didn’t say anything. 

“You may not go _looking_ for trouble, but it always does seem to _find_ you. Just promise me that you will at least _try_ to be careful this year.” 

“Alright, I think I can do that,” you promised. Despite promising to be careful, you knew it was pointless. You were a Gryffindor at heart and being careful didn’t necessarily suit well with that. 

On the day of your departure for England, a letter arrived just before you left. It was addressed to you in an untidy scrawl you immediately recognized as Ron’s. 

_Dear Y/n,_

_I got your last letter about Harry. He hadn’t been responding to my letters, either. I loaded Fred and George up and we took dad’s car he enchanted and flew to bust Harry out. He’s at the Burrow now and is staying until the start of term. Mum’s not too happy about how we got him out, so we’re grounded until the start of the year. She’ll probably forget about it by the time September comes around._

_Anyways, we’re flooing to London and I expect by the time you get this letter we’ll already be there._

_See you in Diagon Alley,_

_Ron_

_Flew? Ron flew a car to bust out Harry?_ You didn’t know why you were surprised after living as a witch for a year now, but a _flying car?_ This world really was strange. 

You arrived in London the next day after a long plane ride over international waters. Your dad and brother Cole decided to stay behind, they had their share of weirdness after last summer’s trip to Diagon Alley. It was just you and your mom. 

“Promise me you’ll write to me more than you did last year?” she asked while you were still in air.

“Yes, mom, we’ve already talked about this,” you said. “And please don’t start again on getting me an owl- I already told you they creep me out.” When you were a kid you read about owls stealing the souls of the dead and you were terrified of them. Now that you were almost twelve, you realized that myth was most likely not true, but you couldn’t look at owls the same. 

“Can you at least let me take you to _look_?” she sighed. “You don’t even have to get an owl if you don’t want to. Although, I think one could grow on you.” You thought about it- you would’ve liked a big, bushy cat to keep in your dormitory. 

“Okay, I will go but only on the condition that if I see a pet I like- no matter if it’s an owl or not- I can get it.” 

“Y/n…” 

“Consider it a birthday present.” 

“Your birthday isn’t until October… you know what- fine. But if I get you a pet, you have to promise you will write _at least_ three times a week and you will tell me if you’re getting into any trouble. Deal?” 

“Deal.” 

When you touched down, you took a taxi to the Leaky Cauldron, where you would use their backyard to reach Diagon Alley. After a quick check-in with the inn-keeper, Tom, you stepped into Diagon Alley. 

Looking around, it was very apparent why Lydia and Braedan had come earlier in the summer. This close to the start of the year, it was packed. Students and their parents were milling about on the cobbled streets and lines were out the door for some shops. You scanned the streets, looking for your friends. You couldn’t find Harry, Ron, or Hermione, but you did find Theo looking in the window of the Quidditch supply store. 

“Theo!” you ran to him and greeted him in a hug. He blushed and returned it. 

“Heya, Y/n,” he said. 

“Where are you parents?” you asked. 

“They’re around here somewhere. I think they’re looking for a place to exchange Muggle money for some Galleons,” he said. 

“Oh well, this is my mom,” you said. “We’re getting ready to go to the Magical Menagerie. She’s hoping she can make me get an owl. Do you want to come with?” 

“Sure.” 

You walked in silence through the crowd. _Typical Theo, talking more in his letters over the summer than he did in-person all of last year._

“So, were you thinking of buying a broom?” you asked him. 

“Huh?” 

“You were at Quality Quidditch Supply… I just assumed…” 

“Oh,” he said. “Yea, mum said if I got on the team she would see about getting me a broomstick. She doesn’t know too much about Quidditch, but she knows me and Lydia are pretty into it.” You kept forgetting that Lydia and Theo knew each other from home. You couldn’t help but notice that you felt a little angry about the possibility of Theo spending time with her without you. You shrugged off the feeling. 

Stepping into the Magical Menagerie, you were greeted with the soft cooing of owls and the mewling of cats. A large cage of rats was located near the door. Glancing at them, you were reminded of Ron’s useless rat, Scabbers and you smiled. 

“The owls are over here,” your mom said. You nodded, not paying any attention. You were too busy wandering the countless rows of shelves. None of the cats in the front caught your eye, so you wandered to the darkness of the back of the shop. 

There, you found a shelf of reptiles and frogs in glass aquariums. You were looking at a large bullfrog when something slithered into the corner of your vision. Looking up, you saw it was a white snake with a turquoise back, cloudy blue eyes, and two small, blue horns on its head. It was neither too small nor too large- the snake was _gorgeous,_ which was an odd thing to say for a snake, but you couldn’t think of a more adequate word to describe it. You read its name tag: 

**_OUROBOROS_ **

**_GREEK HORNED VIPER (MAGICALLY BRED)_ **

**_DANGEROUS IF NOT HANDLED CORRECTLY_ **

“Ouroboros? What a curious name,” you whispered to the snake. It lifted its head, as if it understood you and blinked back in acknowledgement. “It says here that you are very dangerous. You wouldn’t think to bite me would you?” 

“ _Not unless provoked…”_ it hissed, drawing out the “s” in “unless.” You jumped back and glanced around to see if anyone saw. Luckily, you were alone in the back of the shop.

“I am officially losing it because there is _no way_ I’m standing here in this pet shop, talking to a snake.” 

_“I’m just as surprised as you are…”_ it said. _“It is not everyday I get to talk to a young witch…”_

“Okay, so it is official: I’m talking to a snake in a pet shop. Totally normal. Nothing to see here.” The snake gave a low, hissing laugh. 

“Y/n, what’s going on here?” Theo asked, joining you in the back of the shop. His voice sounded almost nervous. 

“You’re never going to believe me!” you said. “So, I’m standing here and all of a sudden this snake here starts talking!” You turned to Ouroboros.

“ _Can you show my friend Theo here what you showed me?”_ you whispered.

_“I can try… he may not understand…”_

“Y/n why are you hissing at that snake like that?” Theo asked, concern washing over his face. 

“Hissing? I’m not hissing, Theo.” He was looking at you like you were crazy until realization dawned on him. 

“No… that couldn’t be possible…” he muttered. 

“What?” you asked. “Care to share with me whatever it is that’s making you look at me like I just kicked a dog?” 

“Do you know why the Slytherin’s house symbol is a snake?” 

“I don’t see what this has to do with anything,” you complained. Theo ignored your whining. 

“The Slytherin’s house symbol is a snake because it was founded by Salazar Slytherin. Slytherin was well-known for possessing an extremely rare ability to talk to snakes called Parseltongue. People think this ability is extremely dangerous because the last person who was able to speak Parseltongue was…” he trailed off.

“Well, go on. Spit it out,” you said

“The last person who was able to speak Parseltongue was You-Know-Who.” 

You rushed out of the shop, ice running through your veins. Your mom saw the look of concern on your face and came rushing out after you. Theo followed closely behind. 

“What happened?” your mom asked. Theo explained, you were too busy hyperventilating to notice. Your mom’s face grew paler the more he explained. _What is it with me and Voldemort? Is this why he wants me alive? Am I supposed to be some Dark wizard like my grandparents?_

“Y/n, it’s okay. I never should have forced you to go in there. You don’t have to get an owl if you don’t want one,” she said, rubbing your back. 

“Is this why Voldemort kept me alive? Am I _evil,_ mom?” you were almost hysterical at this point. She pulled you into an alley with Theo so no one would see. 

“I don’t think you’re evil,” she said. 

“It’s perfectly possible that you’re just some direct descendent of Slytherin,” Theo chimed in. _Ever the Ravenclaw,_ you thought.

“That’s exactly what it is,” your mom said. “All pureblood families are related in some way and the Selwyn family is not an exception. Centuries ago we combined family trees with a descendant of Slytherin. Parselmouths usually only appear in direct descendants of Slytherin. You’re not evil, Y/n. Not at all…” Maybe you were imagining it, but she didn’t sound too sure.


	2. At Flourish and Blotts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The reason I haven't been updating everyday is because I've been putting more work and research into this book than in the last one. Also, btw, every single name of my original characters, have significant value and are very symbolic. If you find out what they mean, I don't think it will spoil anything too much, but it will come into play later. I'm super excited to bring this out and even though I'm not updating as much- I like to believe that what I'm writing is of higher quality.

You managed to pull yourself together. _Speaking Parseltongue has nothing to do with me being evil and everything to do with genetics. I am a descendant of Slytherin, so what?_ You tried to rationalize the situation but a new question came up- if you were truly a descendant of Slytherin’s, why were you in Gryffindor? Afterall, your mom was in Slytherin as were the generations of Selwyn students that came before her and the Sorting Hat had said that it could see generations of Selwyn Slytherins after you… Why were you different? 

“Are you okay now, Y/n?” said Theo, concern was etched into every crease and wrinkle on his face. You looked to your mom and saw she carried the same worried expression as Theo. You swallowed. 

“I’m fine,” you lied. “I think I’m ready to go get some of my school books, now.” 

While walking down the cobbled street you’d considered asking your mom to let you get the snake- you couldn’t in good conscience leave it; then you remembered the scared look on Theo’s face when he saw you speaking in Parseltongue and you knew you couldn’t handle the shame of seeing that again. 

_“Hey, Theo,”_ you whispered behind your mom’s back. 

“Yea?” 

“Can I ask you to promise me something?” 

“Anything _.”_

“Can you keep this whole Parseltongue thing between us?” 

“Of course. I wouldn’t dream of telling anyone else,” he said with a lopsided grin. “I promise.” 

You felt much better with Theo on your side. 

Rounding Gringotts, the wizard bank, you noticed a familiar head of bushy hair on the white, marble stairs. Harry was with her, as was Ron and his whole family.

“Hermione!” you yelled, running to her. 

“Y/n!” she shouted and met you in a hug. 

“Hey there, Y/n,” said Ron. 

“Lovely to see you again, dear,” said Mrs. Weasley, who you met at the end of last year on the train platform. 

“Hello, Mrs. Weasley. This is my mom,” you said, introducing her. Your mom was hiding behind you like a timid child.

“We’ve met before- at Hogwarts,” your mom said. “It’s nice to see you again, Molly.” She held out her hand for Mrs. Weasley to shake. She looked at it and then turned away. 

“You as well, Miranda,” said Mrs. Weasley, rather coldly. 

“Well,” said a tall red-headed man who could only be Mr. Weasley. “I think it’s time we head to Flourish and Blotts for the kids’ school books.” Bless Mr. Weasley. Clearly something had gone down between your mom and Mrs. Weasley in the past and you were glad he was trying to diffuse whatever tension there was between them. 

You walked alongside Ron, Hermione, and Harry through the old, narrow streets- Theo had muttered something about needing to find his parents but you knew he felt uncomfortable intruding in your friend group. You understood how Theo felt- surrounding the four of you, there was an unmistakable and impenetrable bond. Anyone around would feel like an odd-man out. 

You had made your way to Flourish and Blotts, the wizard bookstore. When you had made it, you realized a rather large crowd was jostling outside the doors, trying to get in. Before you could ask about the crowd, you noticed a large poster hung across the upper windows of the bookshop: 

_GILDEROY LOCKHART_

**_Will be signing copies of his autobiography_ **

_MAGICAL ME_

**_TODAY!_ **

“We can actually meet him! I mean, he’s written almost the whole booklist!” Hermione said in delight. 

Managing the squeeze through the ginormous crowd, you found your way inside. At the back of the shop, Gilderoy Lockhart was signing copies of his book. You grabbed a copy of _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2_ and cut to the front of the line to the Weasleys, the Grangers, and your mom. Your mom was standing awkwardly with her back to the Weasleys, looking for you. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw you elbowing your way through the long line to her. 

“Oh, there are. We’ll be able to see him in a minute…” said Mrs. Weasley, seemingly breathless at the possibility of meeting Gilderoy Lockhart. 

You had made it to the front of the line. When Gilderoy Lockhart looked up from his signing, his eyes drifted straight over to Harry. 

“It _can’t_ be Harry Potter?” Lockhart shouted. He grabbed Harry’s arm and pulled him forward. 

_“Save me,”_ Harry mouthed. You gave a little giggle. Lockhart waved the photographer from the _Daily Prophet_ over. 

“Big smile, Harry. Together, we are worth the front page,” said Lockhart. He made Harry take pictures with him for the better part of ten minutes. He finally let Harry go and he tried to dart back to you, but Lockhart had thrown an arm around his shoulders and held him tightly to his side. 

“Ladies and Gentlemen!” Shouted Lockhart, relishing in the attention. “This is the perfect moment for me to make an announcement I’ve been sitting on for some time!

“When young Harry stepped into Flourish and Blotts today, he only wanted to buy my autobiography, which I shall give him now, free of charge. He had _no idea_ that he would shortly be getting much more than my book. Him and his schoolmates will, in fact, be getting the real magical me. Yes, I have great pleasure in announcing that this September I will be taking up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts!” 

The crowd erupted into applause. Lockhart shoved his entire works into Harry’s arms. He struggled back to you. 

“Here, you can have these,” he said to Ginny Weasley, putting the books into her cauldron. 

“Boy, that Lockhart dude sure seems like a-” you started until a cold voice you would recognize almost anywhere came up from behind. 

“Bet you loved that, didn’t you, Potter,” said Draco Malfoy. His face was adorned with its usual sneer. 

“ _Famous_ Harry Potter, can’t even go into a bookshop without making the front page.” Malfoy’s grey eyes looked at you. 

“And nothing to say this time, Y/n? You’re not going to threaten to hex me? I actually rather missed that over the summer.” 

“You know, Malfoy, I’ve decided that I’m better than that this year and I’m not going to threaten anything- I’m just going to do it. And, if I didn’t know any better, I would say it sounds like you’re jealous of Harry. Afterall, how often is it that people actually care when you step into a room?” you said. Ron and Hermione had now made their way over with their copies of Lockhart’s books- your mom was in the middle of purchasing your’s. 

“Oh, it’s you,” said Ron, returning Malfoy’s sneer. 

“I’m surprised to see you in a shop, Weasley. I suppose your parents will go hungry for a month to pay for all those books,” said Malfoy. Ron went to reach for Malfoy, but you grabbed his jacket before he could pull anything. 

“Y/n,” your mom said, coming up with your stack of books. “We should go outside- it’s getting crowded in here.” Mr. Weasley was right behind her with Fred and George. 

“Let’s go outside, kids,” he said. 

“Well, well, well- Arthur Weasley. And if my eyes do not deceive me- is it Miranda Selwyn?” It was Mr. Malfoy. His long platinum hair was slicked back in a disgusting amount of hair grease. He put a long hand on Draco’s shoulder and he put on a sneer identical to Draco’s. 

An elderly man and woman were flanked on his side. They had pale skin and cold, green eyes. Their eyes never left your mom’s. 

“Miranda,” said the man, giving your mom a curt nod. 

_“D-dad?_ ” she breathed. Her voice had grown faint. You reached up to grab her hand. You were reminded of everything your mom had told you about your grandparents last year. They were evil and despicable people who were Voldemort’s number one supporters. Without the financial and political backing of the Selwyn family, Voldemort wouldn’t have been able to rise to power. When he fell, they blamed their actions on having been cursed, but you knew better, as did your mother- who had to flee to America to escape them during the Wizarding War. 

“Ah, this must be Y/n. It’s nice to finally meet my granddaughter,” the elderly woman- your grandmother said with faux sweetness. She bent down so she was face to face with you. She held her arms out for a hug. Your mom stepped in between the two of you and you hid behind her legs. _Why could I take on Voldemort himself with Harry last year but I can’t handle my grandparents?_

“We had to hear from the Malfoys that you were sorted into Gryffindor last year,” your grandfather said to you and then focused on your mom. “The least you could do is pick up a quill and write now, Miranda- or I hear you married yourself a Muggle. I suppose you’re too busy with him now to bother to write to us with an update on our granddaughter.” 

“You don’t deserve to hear anything about, Y/n- especially not after everything you and mom have done,” she said. 

Mr. Weasley, sniffing out tension again, did his best to diffuse it:

“Ah, yes, well life happens. In fact, we’re very busy at the Ministry right now. All those raids...” 

“I do hope they’re paying you overtime?” asked Mr. Malfoy, reaching his hand into Ginny’s cauldron, pulling out the battered copies of her school textbooks. 

“Obviously not,” he laughed- a cold and hollow sound. “Dear me, what’s the use of being a disgrace to the name of a wizard if they don’t even pay you well for it?” 

“Do forgive me, Mr. Malfoy,” you said sweetly. “But what’s the use of being a miserable, old git with all that money if you cannot even afford to use a bit of it on some shampoo for that awful hair?” _Honestly, he could give Professor Snape a run for his Galleons._ Ron laughed, as did Harry. Hermione covered her face, but you could tell she wished to laugh as well. Your grandmother gasped. 

“Y/n! You will apologize to Mr. Malfoy at once!” she exclaimed in shock and embarrassment. 

“No need, Rhea, it is quite alright,” said Lucius. “With the company they keep- this sort of behavior was bound to rub off at some point. I always knew Arthur here was a blood traitor, but I thought at least Miranda knew better…” 

Arthur Weasley could not handle another insult, he lunged for Mr. Weasley’s robes. With a loud clang, Ginny’s cauldron hit the floor, her books flying. In the struggle, your copies of Gilderoy Lockhart’s complete works flew out of your mom’s hands and onto the ground, mixing with Ginny’s books. 

“Get him, Dad!” Fred and George were yelling. 

“No, Arthur!” Mrs. Weasley was shrieking. 

Hagrid, the gamekeeper, pushed through the crowd with minimal effort and had Mr. Weasley and Lucius Malfoy apart in an instant. 

Mr. Malfoy stood up, dusting off his robes. He reached down and picked up your books from Ginny’s and handed them to you. 

“Here girl- you dropped your books,” he said, coldly. “Let’s go, Draco.” 

“As _always_ , Draco, it’s been lovely to see you,” you laughed. Draco frowned and followed his father out of the shop. 

“I wish I could say it’s been nice to see you again, Miranda, but you’ve completely disgraced the name of the Selwyn family. I was willing to overlook past transgressions for the sake of getting to know our granddaughter, but I must say that we are beyond that now- especially after that _show,_ ” said your grandfather, grabbing your grandma’s hand and pulling her out of the shop after the Malfoys. 

“If I never have to see them again, it will be too soon,” you said. 

You hurried out onto the street with the Weasleys, your mom, Hagrid, and the Grangers. When you made it to the street you looked through your books to make sure Mr. Malfoy hadn’t accidentally thrown any of Ginny’s books in with your’s. Sure enough, he had. A small, leather-bound and battered book was in the middle of your large stack of new textbooks. 

“Here, Ginny,” you said, slipping the book into the cauldron. “One of your books got mixed up in mine.” 

You headed back to the Leaky Cauldron with Ron’s family after saying goodbye to the Grangers, who were staying with Muggles. After the fight, Mrs. Weasley didn’t seem as cold towards your mother, especially after she found out she had been on Arthur’s side and not her parents. 

That night, you laid in bed, absolutely stuffed from your dinner of roast beef, but unable to sleep. Your mind wandered to your grandparents. For how evil your mom had painted them out to be- you had expected more. Sure, they looked creepy and didn’t seem to know how to smile and it was hard to even guess when the last time was that they had stepped out into direct sunlight, but at one point you thought you saw a glimmer of sincerity in your grandmother’s eyes when she addressed you. You shook that feeling off. 

That night, you dreamed of Voldemort again and his mirthless eyes. You were on the ground in pain, Voldemort was hurting you. Your grandparents were there with Lucius Malfoy. They stood behind Voldemort, watching you struggle, and laughed while you screamed for help. 


	3. Flying Cars and Missing Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg I finally got to write this chapter! Okay, I also wanted to address some FAQ I've gotten. One of them is why Y/n isn't in Slytherin. There are many reasons (some to be revealed later) but I really think that she exhibits Gryffindor House more. In my opinion, Slytherins are not very self-sacrificing and will only do things if something is in it for them. I think Slytherins are more logical and driven by thought, not emotion. They overthink situations and do things that are very methodical. Gryffindors- to me- seem to be very self-sacrificing and driven by emotion and not logic. They aren't focused on if an action is logical of it makes sense, but if it is morally correct. I think Y/n is a lot like this. She sacrificed herself with Harry last year and has quite a temper and never thinks situations through. Yea, there is a lot of house overlap, but I think that's the point. I don't think all characters are divided into the box of Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Slytherin, or Hufflepuff and they all exhibit characteristics of each house. I hope this helped explain!

After returning to America, the rest of your summer break had come to pass and it was time for your return to school. Packing your new supplies and the complete works of Gildeory Lockhart, you were ready to return to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. 

You arrived at King’s Cross station running late- this time accompanied by your dad, your mom, and your brother, Cole. Cole had finally helped you with your plan to smuggle a Muggle cellphone in to communicate. The quills at school were horrendous to write with and not to mention, it took at least a week for a response back home in America. Last year you were successful at creating a handful of original spells and you were hoping that this year would be no different. Maybe you’d be able to create a spell that would allow you to use your cellphone on school grounds. You laughed when you imagined the shocked look on your mom’s face when she saw a text message come through from you when you were supposed to be in Potions class. 

Smuggled between two sweaters and carefully wrapped to resemble a candy bar, your cellphone was carefully hidden in your trunk. You were pushing your trunk through the large crowd gathered in King’s Cross station and dodging between other Hogwarts students pushing metal trolleys. Finally, you made it to the brick barrier to Platform Nine ¾. Taking a running start, you shot through to the other side. You were greeted by fat, white clouds of steam billowing from atop the crimson train. Hundreds of students were laughing and greeting their friends for the first time since they said their goodbyes last school year. Other students, most first-years, were crying as they hugged their parents and made promises to write everyday. 

You looked to your family who had now joined you on the other side of the brick barrier. 

“I guess this is it,” you said. Your dad gave you a ginormous hug. 

“Please don’t take on any trolls this year, Y/n. You almost gave me and your mom a mini heart-attack,” he said. 

“ _ Mini?”  _ joked Cole. “There was absolutely nothing ‘mini’ about the freak-out you two had when the letter came from her freak school that she had fought a troll in the girl’s bathroom.” 

“Hey! What did I say about calling your sister’s school a freak school?” your dad said. 

“Dad, I know it’s just Cole messing around. I know he isn’t serious,” you laughed. 

“Yea, plus she knows I wouldn’t let anyone else call her a freak but me. She is a freak, but she  _ is  _ my sister,” said Cole. 

“Alright, that’s enough,” your mom said. “It’s about time to send Y/n on the train.” She hugged you and planted two kisses on your cheek. Compared to last year, she was way more chill about sending you off to school for the year.  _ Or maybe she’s gotten better at hiding it.  _

“I’ll miss all of you,” you said. 

“I think I might even miss you this year, Y/n. It wasn’t the same last year without you covering for me for all the dumb stuff I do. I got caught putting laxatives in Mrs. Manner’s tea last year more times than I would like to admit,” said Cole. 

“Okay, that’s news to us,” your dad said. “We’re going to talk about that when we get back home, young man.” 

“Oh,  _ c’mon-”  _ Cole started. 

“Guys, I think it’s time for me to go,” you said before they could start arguing. You gave them each one last hug and you took one last look at them to take a mental picture that you could store for later. 

You boarded the train, looking for your friends to sit with. You found Hermione in a compartment alone in a compartment with a big book on her lap.

“Hey Hermione!” you said. 

“Hi, Y/n. You haven’t seen Harry and Ron by any chance, have you?” she asked. 

“Uh- no. Why?”

“It’s just that the train is about to take off at any minute and I haven’t seen them yet.” 

“They could just be running late like I was,” you reasoned. She nodded. 

You chatted with her as more minutes ticked past. You had completely forgotten about Harry and Ron until you felt a lurch- the train started to slowly depart from King’s Cross. Hermione looked at you- eyes wide. 

“I’m sure they’re around here somewhere, let’s go look in the other compartments and try to find them,” you suggested. She nodded. 

You started scanning every compartment on the train looking for them. You were halfway done when you found a compartment with your friends, Lydia, Braedan, and Theo. You opened the door and peaked your head in. 

“Y/n!” squealed Lydia and she trapped you in a bone-crushing embrace.  _ What is with Hufflepuffs?  _

“Hey, Lydia,” you said and you turned to address the rest of the compartment. “Have any of you guys seen Harry or Ron? They haven’t shown up yet and we’re checking all the compartments for them.” Theo and Braedan shook their heads. 

“Okay, thanks for the help,” you said and you turned your back to leave. 

“Wait!” said Theo, loudly. “Sorry, didn’t mean to be that- er- loud, but maybe we could help you look?” 

“That’d be great. We should split up so it will be easier. Braedan, you go with Lydia and Theo and I will go together.” You went in opposite directions, searching for your missing friends. 

“What do you think happened to them?” Theo asked after a half hour of checking compartments and still coming up short.

“Honestly, it could be anything, knowing those two. I’m just hoping that maybe they missed the train.” You looked into a compartment and noticed two identical heads of red hair. 

“Hi, Fred. Hi, George,” you said. 

“Heya, Y/n,” said George. 

“Have you two seen your brother by any chance?” you inquired. 

“Which one?” said George. 

“Which one do you think?” 

“Oh! You’re looking for Percy, aren’t you? It shouldn’t be too hard to find him, just look for a shiny Prefect badge and a giant head!” Fred said. You laughed. 

“No, I’m looking for Ron,” you said. 

“In all seriousness, we haven’t seen him,” George said. “I imagine if he’s not with you or Hermione then he’s with our mum and Harry. We were running late- they might’ve missed the train.” 

“Okay, thanks!” you said and you shut the compartment door. “Let’s finish checking the rest of the compartments and if they aren’t here, then they must’ve missed the train.” 

You were almost finished with your search and it had become very apparent that Harry and Ron had to have missed the train- they were nowhere to be found. You made it to the last compartment you had to search and you saw the one person you hated more than anything: Draco Malfoy. He was sitting with his other Slytherin friends- Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy Parkinson, and Blaise Zabini.

“Ughhh,” you groaned. “That’s it, then. Let’s go meet up with Lydia and Braedan and see if they’ve seen them, Theo.” 

You were about to take off, but Draco Malfoy had seen the two of you and decided to say hello. 

“Selwyn, is there something you need?” he sneered. You opened your mouth to make a rude comment, but Theo stopped you. 

“We’re good, thank you,” he said for you with faux politeness. Draco scoffed. 

“Having your  _ boyfriend  _ speak for you now- are we, Selwyn?” he said. Theo’s cheeks flushed a deep shade of red. Pansy Parkinson gave an over dramatic laugh. 

“Okay, it  _ really  _ wasn’t  _ that  _ funny, Parkinson. Now, if Draco were to say that your face is so smushed that it looks like it’s been used as a doorstop-  _ that  _ would be hysterical,” you snapped. Theo gave a quiet laugh and then composed himself. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “If you’ll just excuse us.” 

You met back with Hermione, Lydia, and Braedan. There was no Harry or Ron to be found anywhere on the train. Hermione was spazzing. 

“Honestly, Y/n, they could be seriously hurt or in danger! Why are none of you taking it this seriously?” Hermione shrieked. 

“Hermione, I’m sure it’s fine,” Lydia said, trying to comfort her. In this moment, you really had to admire the kindness exhibited by Hufflepuffs; your first response to Hermione was to tell her to chill down and Lydia’s first response was to comfort and console her and Hermione wasn’t even her friend! You felt a little ashamed. 

“Yea, Hermione,” you said, trying to match Lydia’s warm tone. “They’re probably with Mrs. Weasley.” 

“You still don’t  _ understand!  _ What if You-Know-Who got them?” she said. 

“Yea, because Voldemort would kidnap Harry  _ and  _ Ron in broad daylight, surrounded by hundreds of Muggles  _ and  _ wizards in a  _ train station,”  _ you said. She stopped her hysterics, she must’ve seen some logic in what you said. 

“Can I just say that maybe Y/n and Hermione need better friends if they just automatically assume they’re dead if they don’t show up?” Braedan laughed.  _ He’s really not wrong on that one.  _

You had spent the rest of the train ride with Hermione, Braedan, Lydia, and Theo. You had eaten your way through a small mountain of Chocolate Frogs and Every Flavor Beans and passed the time laughing. Hermione still worried over Harry and Ron and decided to sulk on the edge of her seat, reading a large book and sighing periodically to remind you how displeased she was. You all ignored her- you were too busy having fun. 

The time came for you to change into your robes and you were led to the front steps of the castle and into the Great Hall. You took your place at the Gryffindor table with Hermione and Braedan. Lydia took her place at the Hufflepuff table and Theo took his at the Ravenclaw table with some other third-years. Even after eating all your meals for a year in the Great Hall last year, it still amazed you how gorgeous it was. With the cathedral-like ceiling that resembled the night sky, shining with stars and the four long tables that decorated the room. 

Sitting down, you were looking for Harry and Ron again, but they still hadn’t made an appearance. 

“ _ They’re still not here,”  _ Hermione whispered. Maybe Hermione had a point earlier and something bad had happened to the two of them.  _ No, I can’t think like that. They could show up at any moment.  _

They could’ve shown up at any moment- but they didn’t. The Sorting Ceremony had finished (Ron’s sister was sorted into Gryffindor with you), the feast had ended and Ron and Harry were still gone. Strange rumors had begun to spread, the most ridiculous being that Ron and Harry had gotten themselves expelled for driving a flying car to Hogwarts.

You and Hermione wander to the Gryffindor Tower, hoping to find Harry and Ron sprawled out on one of the plushy red couches. As you ascended the last steps, you saw your missing friends standing outside the common room. 

“You  _ idiots!”  _ you ran to them and gave them each a hug. “Where have you been?” 

“There have been the most  _ ridiculous  _ rumors-” said Hermione. “Someone said you’d been expelled for crashing a flying car!” 

“Well, we haven’t been expelled,” said Harry. 

“You’re not telling me you  _ did  _ fly here?” shrieked Hermione. “Y/n and I were so worried about you!” 

“I’m just upset you guys didn’t take me with you,” you joked. 

“Next time,” promised Ron with a grin. 

“ _ Next time?  _ Have you not learned your lesson from tonight?” Hermione was beyond angry. 

“Skip the lecture and tell us the new password,” said Ron. 

“It’s ‘wattlebird,’” you told him. 

“Thanks, Y/n,” Harry said and the portrait of the Fat Lady swung open to the whole of Gryffindor House, applauding and packed into the common room.

“Brilliant Harry! Brilliant Ron!” Lee Jordan was yelling. “Flying right into the Whomping Willow!” 

“Why couldn’t we’ve come in the car?” Fred and George asked. Ron and Harry wore embarrassed grins on their faces. Everyone thought that their huge entrance was one for the ages.  _ Typical Gryffindors.  _

After an hour of your “party,” you went off to the girls’ dormitory with a very annoyed and displeased Hermione. 

“Can you  _ believe  _ them?” Hermione was mumbling.

You went to bed that night, very tired from the excitement of the day and very happy that your two best friends hadn’t gotten themselves killed.


	4. Gilderoy Lockhart

The euphoric adrenaline high that Harry and Ron had been riding since they crashed the flying car into the Whomping Willow came to a sudden end the next day at breakfast. Hermione was still angry with the two of them and flipped through a copy of Lockhart’s  _ Voyages with Vampires  _ that she had propped up on a jug of pumpkin juice. She refused to look at them and sighed at intervals, just to remind them how displeased she was. 

You were almost done with your plate of sausage and eggs, when the owls carrying mail for the students flooded the hall, wings flapping. They were dropping packages into students’ porridge and raining letters over the house tables. An old owl flew on the table, unable to control its wings and battering through a jug of milk, splashing it everywhere. 

_ “Urgh!”  _ you groaned and cast a quick spell to remove the milk from your black robes.

“Another original spell?” Hermione asked. She usually wasn’t happy with your original spells.  _ Think of the consequences, there's no studies done on your spells!  _ her voice nagged in your head. 

“Yes, and you didn’t have any problems with my spells last year when I helped find out about the Philosopher’s Stone and Flamel,” you said and she quieted. 

Ron was pulling the owl out of the mess. 

_ “Errol!”  _ he was saying. In Errol’s beak was a milk-sodden red envelope. “Oh, no-” 

“What’s the matter?” Harry asked. 

“She’s- she sent me a Howler,” said Ron. 

“A what?” you said. 

“You’d better open it, Ron,” said Neville. “It’ll be worse if you don’t. Gran sent me one once and I ignored it- it was horrible.” 

“What’s a Howler?” said Harry, repeating your question. Ron didn’t answer, he was too busy focusing on the envelope clutched tightly in the beak of the old, tawny owl. With trembling hands, he shook the envelope from Errol and opened it. 

**_“STEALING THE CAR, I WOULDN’T HAVE BEEN SURPRISED IF THEY'D EXPELLED YOU, YOU WAIT UNTIL I GET HOLD OF YOU-”_ **

The envelope was screaming in the shrill voice of Mrs. Weasley. Her voice was amplified times a thousands. Everyone in the Great Hall was turning to stare at Ron. Ron’s ears were a deep shade of red. You met Malfoy’s gloating eyes and turned away quickly to meet Theo’s confused gaze from the Ravenclaw table. 

**_“LETTER FROM DUMBLEDORE LAST NIGHT, ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED- YOU AND HARRY COULD HAVE DIED- YOUR FATHER IS FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK- IF YOU PUT ANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE WE WILL BRING YOU STRAIGHT BACK HOME.”_ **

The booming voice stopped and the Great Hall was silent. The envelope fell into Ron’s hand and burst into flames. People began to laugh and then turned back to their normal chatter. 

_ “What’s up?”  _ Theo mouthed. 

_ “Later.”  _ you mouthed back. 

Thankfully, the Howler wasn't just for the sake of embarrassment- Hermione seemed to think the Howler was punishment enough and began to speak to Harry and Ron again. 

Toward the end of breakfast, Professor McGonagall handed out schedules to the Gryffindor table. You saw that you had Herbology with Hufflepuffs first. You were notoriously bad at Herbology, so you were happy Lydia would be with you. Hermione never let you copy her answers and Lydia was too nice to tell you off. She was the best in your year in Herbology, besides Neville. You thought it was because she liked caring for something as fragile as flowers and getting the satisfaction of seeing them grow and bloom into something beautiful.

You walked to the greenhouses with Hermione, Harry, and Ron. The rest of the class was standing around outside the greenhouse waiting for Professor Sprout. You met with Lydia, who was standing with Braedan. 

“Ready for Herbology?” she asked, clearly excited. 

“Just absolutely  _ exhilarated _ ,” you joked. 

“Oh, lighten-up,” said Lydia with a smile. “Maybe you’ll do better this year.” 

“She certainly can’t do any worse,” Braedan laughed. You elbowed him in his ribs. 

_ “ _ Hey,  _ ouch!”  _

“Watch it,” you returned his laugh. 

Standing with Hermione, Ron, Harry, Braedan, and Lydia, Professor Sprout had shown and you were let into the greenhouse to begin your lesson. To your surprise, she was accompanied by Professor Lockhart. 

“Oh, Hello!” said Lockhart in his overly cheery voice. “Just been showing Professor Sprout the right way to doctor a Whomping Willow! But I don’t want you running away with the idea that I’m better at Herbology than she is-” 

“Trust me, you don’t have to worry about that,” you muttered. Ron smiled. Hermione shushed you, trying to hang on to Lockhart’s every word. 

“Please excuse us, Professor Lockhart. We really must be getting started on today’s lesson,” said Professor Sprout, who looked disgruntled.

“Oh, all right- but I would rather like a word with Harry. You don’t mind if he’s a couple minutes late, do you, Professor Sprout?” said Lockhart. Professor Sprout scowled- she clearly had a problem with it. Lockhart ignored it and took Harry outside the greenhouse, shutting the door behind him. 

When Harry returned moments later, he looked flustered and rather annoyed. He took his place between Ron and Hermione. 

“Now,” said Professor Sprout. “Today we will be repotting Mandrakes. Who can tell me the properties of Mandrakes?” 

Hermione’s hand shot in the air.

“Mandrake is a powerful restorative,” said Hermione, repeating a Herbology textbook verbatim. 

“Ten points to Gryffindor. The Mandrake is an essential part of most antidotes. It is also dangerous, care to tell me why?”

“The Mandrake cry is deadly to anyone who hears it,” Lydia chimed in. 

“Excellent! Ten points to Hufflepuff. Now, the Mandrakes we have here are very young. Everyone take a pair of earmuffs,” Professor Sprout said. Lydia was beaming over her small victory for Hufflepuff house.

You scrambled to the table lined with fuzzy, brown earmuffs. On the plant adjacent to the earmuffs were purplish plants that appeared very squished (think Pansy Parkinson) and were growing in rows. 

“When I tell you to put them on, make sure your ears are  _ completely  _ covered. Right- earmuffs on.” 

Sprout grasped one of the Mandrakes firmly and pulled it from its soil. The Mandrake looked like a hideous baby that had been pulled from the earth. Professor Sprout repotted it into a larger pot and then covered it with soil. 

“Alright, four to a tray- there is a supply of pots here.” 

Lydia paired herself with you, Braedan, and Neville. You and Braedan were extremely grateful to have been paired with the two best Herbology students and you were able to spend most of the lesson messing around. Hermione, Ron, and Harry paired with a Hufflepuff boy named Justin Finch-Fletchley. 

At the end of class, dirt was caked underneath your fingernails and your forearms were sore from having to pull the stubborn Mandrakes from their clay pots. You said goodbyes to Lydia and walked back to the castle to wash up and then head off to Transfiguration. 

Transfiguration was supposed to be the hardest subject taught at Hogwarts, but you’d never had any problems with it. Any subject where you got to demonstrate your magic was a subject you excelled in. It was why you had such a problem with Herbology. That subject was nothing but reading about different plants- there were no opportunities to show off your abilities.

You were supposed to be turning beetles into buttons- a feat you accomplished within the first twenty minutes of class. Ron, however, didn’t seem to have the same luck as you. His wand was severely damaged from his and Harry’s close encounter with the Whomping Willow and was held together by a thread of Spellotape. He had tried to transfigure his beetle, but instead caused a mini explosion. He was not happy at the end of class. 

You walked to lunch with your friends. 

“Stupid- useless wand-” Ron was grumbling. 

At the end of lunch, Ron still was still angry and his mood certainly didn’t improve when he heard you had Defense Against the Dark Arts with Lockhart next. 

On your way to class, a small, mousy boy with tousled brown hair and a Muggle camera shuffled over to Harry. 

“I’m- I’m Colin Creevy,” he said. “I’m in Gryffindor, too. Would it be alright- do you think- if I could have a picture?” 

“A picture?” Harry asked, confused. 

“To prove I met you,” Colin said. “I know all about you. I heard about how you defeated You-Know-Who. Hey, do you think maybe you could sign my photo for me?” 

“ _ Signed photos?  _ You’re handing out  _ signed photos,  _ Potter?” Draco Malfoy’s voice echoed around the corner of the corridor. 

_ “Oh my god, Malfoy,”  _ you groaned.  _ “Just go away.”  _

“Everyone line up! Harry Potter’s giving out signed photos!” Draco yelled in the crowded corridor, drawing the attention of several students, who had begun to crowd around you, looking for a fight.

“You’re just jealous,” squeaked Colin Creevy. 

_ “Jealous?  _ Of what? I don’t want a scar right across my head, thanks. I don’t think getting your head cut open makes you that special, myself,” sneered Malfoy. Crabbe and Goyle laughed. 

“No, but you sure think that being a jerk with money makes you special. At least Harry doesn’t have to  _ buy  _ his friends,” you quipped. 

“If friends like Weasley come free, I think I’ll stick with Crabbe and Goyle,” he said. 

“Eat slugs, Malfoy,” said Ron.

“Be careful, Weasley. You don’t want to start any trouble or Mommy’ll have to come and take you away from school,” said Draco, who was now imitating Mrs. Weasley’s Howler. A crowd of Slytherins nearby laughed. 

“Weasley would like a signed photo, Potter. It’d be worth more than his family’s whole house-” Draco smirked. Ron whipped out his wand, but was unable to do anything because  Gilderoy Lockhart chose the moment to stride through the corridor, breaking through the crowd of students around you. 

“What’s all this? Who’s giving out signed photos?” he was asked and then his eyes met Harry’s. “I shouldn’t’ve asked! We meet again, Harry!” 

Harry cheeks flushed in embarrassment and Malfoy disappeared back into the crowd. 

“Off you go, move along!” said Lockhart. The crowd started to disperse. You and your friends went to leave, but Lockhart grabbed Harry’s shoulder and made him stay behind. 

You made it to your Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, Harry coming in later with Lockhart. He looked angry again. 

“You’d better hope Creevy doesn’t meet Ginny or they’ll be starting a Harry Potter fan club,” said Ron.

“Shut up.” snapped Harry. 

Lockhart started speaking once the whole class got seated: 

“Now, to introduce myself: Gilderoy Lockhard, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five-time winner of  _ Witch Weekly’s  _ Most-Charming-Smile Award- I don’t like to talk about that. I didn’t get rid of the Bandon Banshee by  _ smiling  _ at her!” 

“I’m not really sure you got rid of her at all,” you muttered. 

“I thought we would all start today with a little quiz. Nothing to worry about- just to see if you’ve read my books.” He passed out the papers. You looked at yours. 

  * _What is Gilderoy’s Lockhart’s favorite color?_



**_How am I supposed to know?_ **

  * _What is Gilderoy Lockhart’s secret ambition?_



**_To quit being a pretentious git_ **

  * _What, in your opinion, is Gilderoy Lockhart’s greatest achievement to date?_



**_Managing to survive a whole day being this annoying and not being hexed by me_ **

  * _When is Gilderoy Lockhart’s birthday and what would his ideal gift be?_



**_My ideal gift to Gilderoy Lockhart would be a nice Bat-Bogey Hex. As for the date of his birthday, I’m going to assume Mid-June to Mid-July because that would make him a Gemini and I learned in Astrology that all Geminis are annoying_ **

A half hour later, Lockhart collected the quizzes. You turned your’s in, gloating. He was flipping through the responses and stopped when he got to a paper you recognized as your own. He read your responses, smile fading. He put the stack of quizzes on his desk. 

“I think that’s enough of that!” He said, smile returning as he bent behind his desk and lifted a large covered cage onto it. “Be warned! These creatures are dangerous and all I can ask is that you remain calm!” 

He pulled the cover off the cage. 

“Yes, freshly caught Cornish pixies!” he said dramatically. The pixies were a battery blue and only about six inches in height. 

“Right, let’s see what you make of them!” He opened the cage. The pixies shot out, two of them grabbed Neville and pulled him by the ears into the air. Two were pulling at your robes. You took out your wand and spelled them away. The rest of the pixies were destroying the classroom. 

“Round them up! They’re only pixies!” shouted Lockhart. 

“ _ YOU ROUND THEM UP!”  _ you screamed, blasting more off of your robes. You turned your attention to Neville, trying to help him get down. 

“Alright, then!  _ Peskipiksi Pesternomi!”  _ he shouted. Nothing happened. One of the pixies stole his wand and threw it out the window. Lockhart dived under his desk. By the grace of God, the bell rang and there was a mad dash towards the exit. You were almost to the exit with Harry, Ron, and Hermione when Lockhart said:

“Well, I’ll just ask the four of you to nip the rest of them back into their cage.” He ran out the door and shut it after him.

“This  _ git _ !” you screamed. 

“He just wants us to get some hands-on experience,” said Hermione. 

_ “Hands-on?  _ Hermione, he didn’t have any idea what he was doing-” started Harry. 

“Rubbish,” said Hermione. “We’ve read his books- look at all those amazing things he’s done-” 

“He  _ says  _ he’s done,” said Ron. 


	5. Mudbloods and Whispers

Working together with Hermione, it took only a half hour to round up the pixies and put them back in their cage on Lockhart’s desk. You went to dinner that night very angry and very annoyed at Professor Gilderoy Lockhart. 

You finished out your first day in the Great Hall, laughing with your friends and then on the Quidditch field, watching Theo try out for Chaser for the Ravenclaw house team. He did a good job securing the Quaffle and scoring goals, but in his nervous state, he missed a few obvious shots. 

“So, when do you find out the results?” you asked him as he returned from the locker rooms, covered from head to toe in dirt and sweat. 

“Not until the end of the week,” he breathed. 

“I’m absolutely positive they’ll let you on,” said Lydia. “Your plays were brilliant!” 

“I was even impressed,” Braedan said. “And I know absolutely bloody nothing about Wizarding sports!”

Theo still didn’t look too sure of himself. You grabbed his hand and gave a reassuring squeeze. 

“You _did_ do rather good,” you encouraged. His face flushed (something that seemed to happen very often now) and he gave a small, shy smile. 

The rest of your week passed at a dreadfully slow pace. Lockhart’s class had somehow managed to get worse (if you can even believe it) and Herbology, your worst class, had greatly increased in difficulty in only your first week. The only thing that got you through the week was your plan to visit Hagrid with Hermione, Ron, and Harry Saturday morning. 

Finally, the weekend had come and you were free to do nothing. You awoke Saturday morning and dressed. You found Hermione and Ron already at breakfast in the Great Hall. 

“Hi guys,” you yawned, reaching for a tray of scrambled eggs. “Where’s Harry?” 

“Quidditch practice,” said Ron. “Wood’s gone mental, he got them up at dawn.”

“We’re going to watch them practice after this if you want to come,” said Hermione. 

After your breakfast, the three of you stood to leave and you were almost out of the Great Hall, when you remembered something. 

“Hey, I’ll catch up with you guys later,” you told them. 

You made a beeline to the Ravenclaw table and straight to Theo. He was in a conversation with a group of third-years. He stopped when he saw you. 

“Hey, Y/n,” he said. “Did you come to have breakfast? You can eat with us if you want.” He seemed excited about the possibility of you joining him and his friends. 

“No, sorry. I’ve already eaten and I don’t think it would be allowed,” you said, gesturing to your scarlet-trimmed Gryffindor robes and his blue-trimmed Ravenclaw robes. 

“Oh,” he said, sounding disappointed. 

“I actually came over because I was wondering if the results were out yet; are you the new Ravenclaw Chaser?” you asked. 

“Oh! I didn’t get the chance to tell you, I made the team.” 

“I knew you would! You were great the other day at tryouts. I just hope it won’t affect our friendship when Gryffindor stomps you during your first match,” you joked. He laughed. 

After a few more quick words, you ran across the lawn to catch up to Hermione and Ron. You found a spot to sit in stands with them. You heard a soft _clicking_ noise above you. Looking up, you saw a boy you recognized from earlier as Colin Creevy. He was taking photos of Harry on the field.

After a bit, the Gryffindor team filed out of their locker rooms, even though the sun was completely up and shining brightly. 

“Didn’t you say they were up at dawn?” you asked. 

“They were,” said Hermione.

“Haven’t you started yet?” yelled Ron. You saw Harry shake his head from the field.

The team made a few plays before something caught your eye. The whole Slytherin Quidditch team was striding across the field in their emerald green robes, carrying shiny black broomsticks. You nudged Ron. 

“What’s going on over there?” you pointed to the green-clad Slytherin team approaching the Gryffindor team. 

“Nothing good,” said Hermione. You made your way down the stands to the field. 

“What’s happening?” Ron asked Harry. “Why aren’t you playing and what’s _he_ doing here?” 

Ron was looking at Malfoy in his Slytherin Quidditch robes. 

“I’m the new Slytherin Seeker, Weasley,” said Malfoy. 

“Congrats Malfoy!” you said with mock enthusiasm. “This way it’ll be easier for Gryffindor to beat Slytherin. I actually feel rather sorry for your house, it’s almost like you Slytherins are just handing us the win.” 

“I wouldn’t bet on that, Selwyn,” said Malfoy, gesturing to the Slytherin team’s matching broomsticks. “Everyone has been admiring the brooms my father bought our team. They’re Nimbus 2001’s. Much faster than your Nimbus 2000, Potter.” 

Ron and Harry’s mouths dropped. 

“Good aren’t they?” said Malfoy. “Perhaps the Gryffindor team can raise some gold and get new brooms, too. You could raffle off those Cleansweep Fives; I expect a museum would bid for them.” 

The Slytherin team burst into laughter. 

“At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to _buy_ their way in,” said Hermione. “ _They_ got in on pure talent.” 

Malfoy dropped the smug look on his face. 

“Nobody asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood,” he sneered. 

Everything happened in an instant. You and Harry stood around in confusion. Whatever the word “Mudblood” meant must’ve been bad because everyone was instantly offended. The Gryffindor team was diving at the Slytherin team. Ron plunged his hand into his robes and pulled out his Spellotaped wand. 

“You’ll pay for that one, Malfoy!” he said and pointed it at Malfoy. 

There was a bang and a jet of green light, but rather than hitting Malfoy, the green light shot out the opposite end and hit Ron. He flew backwards in the grass. You and Hermione instantly ran to him. 

“Ron! Ron! Are you all right?” Hermione called. 

Ron had opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead, several slubs dribbled out of his mouth and onto his lips. The Slytherin team thought this was absolutely the funniest thing they had ever seen. 

“I’ll show all of you,” you said, pulling out your wand. 

“Y/n, don’t,” Hermione pleaded. “We need to help Ron.” 

You sighed and placed your wand back into your robes. 

“We need to take him to Hagrid’s,” said Harry. “It’s the closest.” 

“What happened Harry? Is he ill? You can cure him can’t you?” Colin Creevy asked. He had run down from his seat in the stands and was taking pictures of Harry carrying Ron across the lawn to Hagrid’s. 

“Out of the way, Colin!” Harry snapped. 

You made it to Hagrid’s house and knocked on the door. Hagrid opened up at once. 

“Bin wonderin’ when you’d come ter see me- come in, come in,” he said. 

Harry put Ron down at Hagrid’s table. Hagrid didn’t seem too bothered by Ron’s slug problem, which Harry explained as he set Ron down. 

“Better out than in,” he said, placing a large bucket in front of Ron. “Get ‘em all up, Ron. Who was he tryn’ ter curse?” 

“Malfoy called Hermione something- it must’ve been really bad, because everyone went wild,” said Harry. 

“It was bad,” said Ron. “Malfoy called her a ‘Mudblood-’” 

Ron had to bend down again to puke up another handful of slugs. 

“He didn’!” said Hagrid. 

“He did,” you said. “Although, I’m not quite sure what it means.” 

“Neither am I,” said Hermione. “I could tell it was really rude, of course-” 

“It’s about the most insulting thing he could think of,” said Ron, who had just come up for air again. “Mudblood’s a foul name for someone who is Muggle-born- you know, non-magic parents. There are some wizards- like Malfoy’s family- who think they’re better than everyone else because they’re what people call pureblood.” 

The conversation you had with your mom last year flashed back. You remembered her explaining the Selwyn family history. The words _“blood purity”_ and _“Sacred Twenty-Eight”_ flashed through your head. How you were related to such awful people, you didn’t know. Theo, Braedan, and Hermione were all Muggle-born and all very talented wizards. They were your best friends and Malfoy was no better than them just because he came from a “pure” family.

“My family, too,” you muttered. 

“Yea, your’s, too,” said Ron. “I wouldn't think anything of it, Hermione. Most of us know that being a pureblood wizard doesn’t mean anything. Look at Neville Longbottom- he’s a pureblood and he can hardly stand a cauldron up the right way.” 

“An’ they haven’t invented a spell our Hermione can’ do,” Hagrid chimed in. 

Hermione smiled proudly. 

“It’s a nasty thing to call someone,” said Ron. “Dirty blood, see. Common blood. It’s ridiculous. Most wizards these days are half-blood anyways. If we hadn’t married Muggles like your mom did, Y/n, we’d’ve died out.”

“Well, I don’t blame yeh fer tryn’ ter curse him, Ron,” said Hagrid. “Bu’ mauve it was a good thing yer wand backfired. ‘Spect Lucius Malfoy would’ve come marchin’ up ter school if yeh’d cursed his son. Least yer not in trouble. Come an’ see what I’ve bin growin’”

You followed Hagrid out to the pumpkin patch with Hermione and Harry. Ron had stayed inside to finish puking up his slugs. In the pumpkin patch, there were pumpkins the size of large boulders. 

“Jesus, those things are huge,” you said. 

“What’ve you been feeding them?” Harry asked. 

Hagrid tapped the pink umbrella hanging from his belt. Harry had told you last year that Hagrid had gotten expelled for unknown reasons and Dumbledore must’ve created some sort of wand for him out of a pink umbrella that Hagrid carried around everywhere. 

“An Engorgement Charm?” said Hermione. 

Ron came to join them. 

“I met yer little sister jus’ yesterday,” said Hagrid. “Said she was jus’ lookin’ round the grounds, but I reckon she was hopin’ she might run inter someone else at my house.” He winked at Harry. 

“Oh, shut up,” said Harry. Ron howled with laughter and more slugs shot out his mouth. 

At lunchtime you said goodbye to Hagrid and headed back up the castle to eat. You made it to the cool entrance hall, where you were greeted by Professor McGonagall. 

“There you are, Potter- Weasley,” she said in a stern voice. “You will both do your detentions this evening. Weasley, you will polish silver in the trophy room with Mr. Filch. And you, Potter, will be helping Professor Lockhart answer his fan mail.” 

The rest of the afternoon disappeared in a haze. Harry and Ron disappeared for their detentions and you stayed in the common room with Braedan and Hermione. 

You curled up in front of the fire, unfurling your Muggle phone from its candy wrapper, hoping to find a spell that would get the thing to stop going haywire anytime you turned it on. Hermione disapproved of your plan to sneak the electronic onto the grounds, but didn’t say much about it. Braedan was in your ear giving you suggestions. 

You were in the process of writing down different ideas to get the thing to work, when you heard an icy voice that chilled you to the bone. 

_“Come… come to me… Let me rip you… Let me tear you… Let me kill you…”_ You jumped. 

“What?” asked Braedan. Hermione took her eyes off her book, staring at you intently. 

“Did you not hear the voice?” you asked them. 

Hermione’s brows furrowed. 

“What voice?” Hermione asked. 

“It must’ve been nothing,” you said, blowing it off. Braedan went back to helping you list ideas, but Hermione was still staring at you. 

Braedan ended up going to bed while you and Hermione sat in the almost empty common room, waiting for Ron and Harry to show back up from their detention. Ron showed up and then Harry showed up a moment later. They joined you in front of the fire. 

“I have something to tell you,” said Harry in a low voice. He launched into the story of his detention: 

While signing letters for Lockhart, he had heard the same voice you did. When he asked Lockhart if he heard it, Lockhart had said that he didn’t. 

“ _I heard it too, Harry!”_ you whispered. Hermione looked shocked. 

“So if Y/n heard it too, do you think Lockhart must’ve been lying when he said he didn’t hear it?” Ron asked. Hermione shook her head. 

“That wouldn’t be possible,” said Hermione. 

“And why’s that?” Ron asked. 

“Because when Y/n said she heard the voice, I couldn’t hear it either.” 


	6. Deathday Party

October had come and you and Harry hadn’t heard the voice again. This was something you were glad for. Whatever it was couldn’t have been good. Voices threatening to kill people and rip them apart and can only be heard by two people in the entire school aren’t usually good omens. 

You had spent your first month at Hogwarts with friends. Late nights were spent huddled in front of the fire in the Gryffindor common room, surrounded by Hermione, Harry, and Ron and occasionally joined by Braedan. Early mornings were spent in the library with your other group of friends. Lydia would spend the mornings trying in vain to help your dreadful Herbology grade and you and Theo usually had to help Braedan and Lydia with Transfiguration, Charms, and Defense Against the Dark Arts. 

A nasty cold had swept through the student body that October and the school nurse, Madam Pomfrey, was busy making potions to counteract its symptoms. Ginny Weasley had been looking exceptionally pale and had been persuaded by Percy to seek Pomfrey and take some of the cold medicine. 

It rained nearly everyday. At quiet times of the day, you found yourself with Theo, looking out across Hogwarts’ vast grounds to the lake. You loved watching the fat raindrops penetrate the immovable stillness of the glassy, black surface of the murky water. While watching, you and Theo would talk. This is what you liked about Theo- he was usually very quiet with other people around, but when it was just the two of you, he was a completely different person. With him, you discussed your mutual hatred of Lockhart, homework, and your friends. It felt comfortable. You even told him about the mysterious voice you and Harry had heard- something you promised Harry, Ron, and Hermione you wouldn’t talk about outside your friend group. 

Speaking of Harry, he had spent nearly every night and weekend on the rainy Quidditch pitch, returning to the Gryffindor common room every night in a thick layer of mud, grime, and sweat. The way Harry told it, both the Ravenclaw team and the Slytherin team had a great chance of winning the House Cup this year. 

“The Slytherins have their new Nimbus 2001’s,” said Harry one afternoon in a corridor before Potions. “And Ravenclaws have put together a good team. Your friend, Theo, is the best Chaser they’ve had in a while- or at least that’s how Wood tells it.” 

“I’m sure you can still pull it off,” you told Harry. 

“I wouldn’t be too sure of that, Sewlyn,” said a cold voice behind you. 

“Don’t you have something better to go do, Malfoy? I know if I were you, I’d be outside in the sun trying to get a tan. Or- I don’t know- I think I’d be in my house showers trying to wash that grease out of my hair,” you snapped. 

“I see you still haven’t changed, Selwyn,” Malfoy sneered. 

“Is there something you need or did you just come over to be an annoying git?” Ron asked. 

Malfoy would’ve responded to Ron with some dig (most likely about his family), but Professor Snape had chosen that very moment to show up. 

“And what’s going on here?” Snape said in a low voice, taking in the scene. 

“Nothing,” said Ron quickly. Snape snapped his dark gaze over to Ron. 

“Your shirt is untucked, Weasley. Ten points from Gryffindor,” Snape said. You opened your mouth to say something. “Ten points from Gryffindor for the cheek, Ms. Danner. Now, off to class, we’re brewing Fire Protection Potions. Don’t be late.” 

“I didn’t even say anything!” you said when Snape disappeared behind a corner with Malfoy following close behind. “I can’t stand those two.” 

_________________________

Draco Malfoy was a very smart boy. He knew many things. He knew he was an exemplary student, with grades only second to Hermione Granger. He knew that he was a decent Seeker and he knew that the Malfoy’s were a prestigious and noble family, their pure family tree extending its branches centuries into the past. He knew that as a pureblood, he was worthier and more talented than that Mudblood, Hermione. Afterall, it was this hateful rhetoric that had been ingrained in his brain since he could walk. But, if there was one thing Draco Malfoy was absolutely sure of, it was his hatred for you. 

For the life of him, Draco Malfoy couldn’t understand his father’s strange desire to see the two of you together as friends. You and him had absolutely _nothing_ in common. He was a pureblood of distinguished descent- you were a half-blood from a pure-blood mother, who had disgraced her whole family to marry an American Muggle. While on the topic of your nationality, that was another difference you shared. Why would Dumbledore send a girl from America to a distinguished _British_ school for Wizards? You were also annoying and absolutely exasperating. Your sharp tongue was the only one in the whole school that could keep up with his.

Yet, his father, Lucius, had sent letter after letter encouraging Draco to befriend you. _You mustn’t be discouraged, Draco,_ the letters would say. _She is from a most ancient and distinguished family. The Selwyn family has been the Malfoy’s closest allies for centuries, I would hate for our families closeness to end with you._

He had tried to on that first day on the train. He could still remember the burning sensation on his face, coupled with the shame and embarrassment he felt when you and Harry had rejected his offer of companionship. Draco had given up trying to be nice to you, if you wanted to be friends with scum like the Weasleys, well, that was your problem. 

__________________________

You were leaving Potions that day, tagging behind your friends. You were almost back to the Gryffindor Tower, when you saw Nearly Headless Nick staring out of the window. 

“Don’t fulfill their requirements… half an inch, if that…” he was muttering to himself. 

“Hello, Nick,” said Harry. 

“Hello, hello,” said Nick, still staring out the window. He looked rather sad.

“Are you okay?” you asked the ghost, who was paler than usual.

“Ah, I’m fine,” he said with the wave of his hand. “It’s not a matter of importance… It’s not as though I really wanted to join… You know, you think I would ‘fulfill the requirements.’ You would think that getting hit forty-five times in the neck with an axe would qualify you to join the Headless Hunt.” 

“Oh, yea, obviously,” said Ron. 

“I mean, nobody wishes more than I do that my head had been chopped off in one clean go. It would have saved me a great deal of pain and ridicule. But apparently being ‘Nearly Headless’ isn’t enough for the Headless Hunt. I only have half an inch of skin holding my neck on! Most people would think that that’s good and beheaded, but oh, no, it’s not enough!” 

You were trying to calm down Nick, when Mrs. Norris and Mr. Filch appeared out of nowhere. Filch, already in a dreadful mood from his flu, had seen Harry and decided to make him miserable. 

“Ah, Mr. Potter,” Filch coughed. “I’ve been meaning to catch you! You’ve been leaving mess and muck everywhere after your Quidditch practices. You’re coming with me to my office.” 

He seized Harry by the black sleeve of his robes and drug him off. Harry gave you a pleading look, but there was little you could do. 

Harry returned a half hour later to the common room. Apparently Nearly-Headless Nick had saved Harry from a detention with Filch. 

“I made a promise that we’d go to his deathday party on Halloween,” said Harry. “It’s the least I can do after what he did for me.” 

“This will be fascinating!” said Hermione. “A deathday party! I bet there aren’t many living people who can say they’ve been to one.” 

“Why would anyone want to celebrate the day they died?” Ron asked. “Sounds awfully depressing to me…” 

You had to agree.

Halloween arrived and you were mad at Harry for promising you’d attend Nick’s deathday party. This year’s feast was supposed to be legendary. Hagrid’s pumpkins had grown larger and were cut up and carved into large jack-o-lanterns and live bats flew around the ceiling of the Great Hall. There was even a rumor that Dumbledore had booked dancing skeletons for celebration. It seemed Harry was just as angry at himself for his promise to Nick, for he brought it up one afternoon during lunch.

“You _promised,”_ reminded Hermione in her bossiest voice. Harry nodded, there was no way to get out of this. 

Later that night, you walked past the Great Hall and down to the dungeons to the party. The closer you got to the party, the temperature dropped. You could see your breath by the time you made it. You stepped into the room and heard a dreadfully awful sound. It sounded like the scraping of metal on metal or a fork scraping up the last remnants of food on a plate. You cringed. 

“Is that supposed to be _music_?” Ron asked. 

The orchestra was in the corner and hundreds of translucent ghosts, pale as bone, were waltzing about the room. You were looking around the party until Hermione stopped abruptly. 

“Uh, oh,” said Hermione. “Turn back, turn back, I don’t want to talk to Moaning Myrtle-” 

“Who?” said Harry, backtracking quickly. 

“She’s only the most annoying ghost in the whole school,” you said. 

“She haunts one of the toilets in the girls’ bathroom on the first floor,” chimed in Hermione. 

“She haunts a _toilet_?” said Ron. 

“Yes. It’s been out-of-order all year because she has temper tantrums and floods the place. I never go in there- it’s awful having to pee with her wailing at you,” said Hermione. 

“One time I went in there and she told me I had big teeth and then got hurt when I insulted her back. I think the whole bathroom was flooded for a week after that. Never did go back,” you said. 

“Look, food!” Ron said, cutting off your’s and Hermione conversation. 

Facing the opposite wall, there was a long table draped with velvet. You approached the table, mouth salivating. Within moments, any spit you had in your mouth had dried up. The food smelled absolutely dreadful. On the plates were burnt cakes, fish rotten and covered in maggots, and fuzzy, moldy cheese. 

A ghost came over, crouched low, and walked through the stinking food. 

“Can you taste it?” Harry asked curiously. 

“Almost,” said the ghost and he drifted away. 

“I’d bet they let it rot to give it a stronger flavor,” said Hermione. 

You couldn’t take the smell anymore, you walked away and accidentally walked into (or _through_ ) Peeves the Poltergeist. 

“Sorry, Peeves!” you said quickly. 

“Walking through me? How delightfully _rude_ ,” he said. “You know, I heard you talking about poor Myrtle. That was awfully rude, too.” Peeves took a breath and yelled. “OY! MYRTLE!” 

“Oh, don’t tell her what I said!” Hermione begged. “I didn’t mean it. I don’t mind her- er, hello, Myrtle.” 

Myrtle had glided over, sulking. Her face was dropped into a permanent, dreadful scowl. 

“What?” she said. 

“How are you, Myrtle?” Hermione asked. 

“Miss Granger and Miss Danner were just talking about you-” said Peeves mischievously. 

“We were just saying how beautiful you look,” you said, trying to prevent any drama from Myrtle. Myrtle didn’t buy it. 

“You were talking bad about me,” she said, tears welling up. “You were making fun of me.” 

“No- honestly- Y/n was just telling me how nice you looked. Wasn’t she?” said Hermione, looking to Ron and Harry. 

“Oh yea-” 

“She did-” 

“Don’t lie to me!” Myrtle gasped, more silvery tears falling down her face. “Do you think I don’t know what you people say about me? Fat Myrtle! Ugly Myrtle! Miserable, moping, moaning Myrtle!”

She floated away, wailing. 

“I don’t know how much more this I can take,” you whispered. 

It turned out that you could only stand an hour more of Nick’s deathday party. After being bored almost to death (ironic),your stomach was starting to turn in on itself. You were so hungry. You begged Harry to leave. He agreed. 

You backed out the door slowly and then broke into a run, hurrying to the Great Hall. You were almost there when you heard something that made both you and Harry stop in your tracks. It was the voice from a month ago. 

“ _...Rip… tear… kill…_ ” 

“You hear it too, don’t you, Harry?” You turned to him. He was ghastly pale, but he managed a nod. 

“What’re you two-” Ron started. 

“It’s the voice again- shut up a minute-” said Harry. 

“ _...so hungry… for so long…_ ” 

“Listen!” said Harry. “Are you sure you and Hermione can’t hear it?” 

They shook their heads. You and Harry were listening, but the voice seemed to be moving further away. 

“We need to follow it,” you said and you started down the hallway. 

“Follow us,” Harry told Ron and Hermione. They didn’t argue. You sprinted up the marble staircase to the first floor.

“ _I smell blood… I SMELL BLOOD!_ ” 

Your stomach was filled with butterflies. 

“We need to hurry!” you said. 

“It’s going to kill someone!” Harry shouted. You sprinted up the next flight of stairs, trying to listen to the voice. You didn’t stop running until you turned a corner into the last, deserted passage.

“What is this about?” breathed Ron. “Why can Hermione and I not hear anything?”

Hermione didn’t respond, her face had turned sheet white and she pointed to the wall ahead. 

“Look!” 

Something shiny was on the wall, you approached for a better look. 

**THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED, ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE**

The words were a foot tall and written in blood. You shuddered. 

“What’s that thing- hanging underneath?” said Ron, voice shaking. 

You looked closer, almost slipping on a large puddle of water on the floor. All four of you realized at once what was hanging and you leapt back. 

Mrs. Norris was hanging by her tail from the bracket of the torch. She was stiff and her eyes were frozen open in terror. 

“We need to get out of here,” said Ron. 

“Shouldn’t we try and help-” Harry began. 

“We don’t want to be found here,” said Ron. 

You turned to leave but it was already too late. The feast had let out and a large crowd of students came from both ends of the corridor where you were. Their happy chatter stopped when they saw you, standing in front of a hanging cat. There was an eerie and deathly silence. 

“Enemies of the Heir, beware!” yelled Draco Malfoy, breaking the silence. “You’ll be next Mudbloods!” 


	7. The Writing on the Wall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter really stumped me, I'm not going to lie. It took me forever to write. Hope you enjoy! Also, more Draco scenes are coming, I swear. I want their relationship to develop organically and where they are at in the story right now, it doesn't feel natural. The later years you will see A LOT of Draco scenes, trust me. WE ARE HALFWAY THROUGH WITH COS!!!!! I'm excited for PoA because more relationships will be developed and I have a couple plans!

“What’s going on here? What’s going on?” came Filch’s voice from down the corridor. He must’ve heard Malfoy’s shout and came running. He elbowed his way through the crowd, stopping in horror when he saw the blood-covered walls and his cat. 

“My cat! My cat!” he wailed. “What’s happened to Mrs. Norris?” 

His eyes fell on Harry. 

“You! You’ve murdered my cat! You’ve killed her! I’ll kill you! I’ll-” 

“Argus!” 

Dumbledore arrived and was followed by an entourage of teachers. He walked past you, Hermione, Harry, and Ron to the cat hanging from the torch bracket. He cut her loose with his wand. 

“Come with me, Argus,” he told Filch. “You, too, Mr. Potter, Ms. Granger, Mr. Weasley, and Ms. Danner.” 

Lockhart jumped forward, eager for the chance to shift the attention to him. 

“My office is nearest, Headmaster- it’s just upstairs- please feel free to use it.” 

“Thank you,” said Professor Dumbledore. 

You shuffled through the crowd, making sure to shoot Draco Malfoy a particularly nasty look as you passed. He was gloating. You then searched the crowd, looking for Theo’s face. You found it in no time. His face was a mixture of horror and confusion. 

“I promise to explain to you later,” you said as you passed and you gave his hand a small squeeze. 

You entered Lockhart’s office. Dumbledore placed the cat on the dark wooden surface of Lockhart’s desk. You sunk into a chair, exchanging nervous looks with your friends. _Dumbledore certainly doesn’t think that we’ve done this. Does he?_

Dumbledore examined the cat, waving his wand at it a few times. Professor McGonagall was bent over beside him, examining the cat just as closely. Snape lurked behind them in a corner. He wore a small smile on his face. _Psychopath._

“It was definitely a curse that killed her,” said Lockhart. “Probably the Transmogrifan Torture- I’ve seen it used many times. It is rather unlucky for Mrs. Norris here that I wasn’t there, I know the countercurse that may have saved her life…” 

Filch was sobbing uncontrollably and interrupting Lockhart’s every other word. If you didn’t know Filch any better, you would’ve felt sorry for him. 

“She’s not dead, Argus,” said Dumbledore who had now finished examining the cat. “She’s been Petrified.” 

“Ah! I thought so!” exclaimed Lockhart. You shot him a look. 

“Weren’t you just sayin-” you started, until Dumbledore waved his hand, cutting you off.

“How Mrs. Norris was Petrified, I cannot say…” Dumbledore said. 

“It was _him!”_ shouted Filch, pointing his finger to Harry. 

“No second year could have done this,” said Dumbledore in a stern tone. “It would take Dark Magic of the most advanced-” 

“He did it! He did it! You saw what he had written on the wall! He knows I’m a Squib!” shrieked Filch. You had read about Squibs before in a book borrowed from Hermione and suddenly everything about Filch made sense. He didn’t hate the students of Hogwarts, he _envied_ them. He couldn’t do magic, and so he took it out on the students who could. 

“I never _touched_ Mrs. Norris!” Harry said, defending himself. 

“Now I’m wishing I had,” you murmured. 

“If I may say something,” said Snape. “Potter and his friends may have been in the wrong place at the wrong time. But we do have a set of suspicious circumstances. Why was he in the upstairs corridor at all? Why wasn’t he at the Halloween feast?” 

You all burst into describing the details of Nick’s deathday party. 

“But why not join the feast afterward? Why go up that corridor?” sneered Snape. 

You and Harry’s eyes locked. _Do we tell them about the voice we heard? Does that look suspicious?_

“Because- because,” stuttered Harry. “Because we were tired and wanted to go to bed.” 

“Without supper?” 

“We weren’t hungry,” said Ron, as his stomach gave a great roar of protest. 

“I believe Potter and his friends here aren’t telling us the truth. I’d bet more than anything Potter mastermind it and Ms. Danner carried it out with Weasley and Granger to watch.” sneered Snape. “This Dark Magic could only be done by an extremely advanced student and Danner is the only second year who could pull it off. No doubt Potter would have used his more talented friend to carry out his plans.” 

“That’s enough, Severus,” said Dumbledore in a firm voice. “Innocent until proven guilty. As for Mrs. Norris, Professor Sprout managed to procure some Mandrakes recently. As soon as they’re grown, I will have a potion made that will revive her. You four may go.” 

You went as quickly as possible, turning into an empty classroom and closing the door behind you. 

“Should we have told them about the voice?” you asked when the door was firmly latched behind you. 

“No,” said Hermione and Ron quickly. 

“Hearing voices is never a good sign, even in the wizarding world,” said Ron. 

“You believe us, don’t you?” Harry asked timidly. 

“Of course I do,” said Ron. “But you must admit it’s weird…” 

“The whole thing is weird,” admitted Harry. “What was the writing about? What’s the Chamber of Secrets?” 

“I dunno, but it rings a bell,” said Ron. “I think Bill told me a story about some secret chamber at Hogwarts once…” 

Days had passed and the focus of everyone’s conversations was the Chamber of Secrets and the Petrification of Mrs. Norris. Filch had gotten worse (if you can believe it). He took Snape’s theory to heart and believed that you and Harry were responsible. He spent most of his days looking for new ways to get you and Harry in trouble. You had come to learn to avoid him. 

Ginny Weasley seemed almost as upset as Mr. Filch, as she was a cat lover. Ron had tried to make her feel better, but he never could figure out the right thing to say and she was worse off than before. 

Feeling conflicted and afraid, you sought out the one person who never failed to make you feel comfortable. 

“Do you know anything about the Chamber of Secrets?” you asked Theo one afternoon. You wanted his take on the strange situation. His talent to rationalize even the most irrational situations did wonders to calm your nerves. 

You were sitting together at the base of a large oak tree, watching the smooth water of the lake. You had drug Theo out of the castle, desperate to get away from the gossip and prying eyes. Although the outside air was freezing in early November, it didn’t feel as harsh or as stifling as the air inside. 

“I think I’ve read about it somewhere before,” said Theo. _Of course he has._ “I can’t remember where, though.” 

You gave a great sigh. Neither Theo nor Hermione knew anything about the Chamber of Secrets and they were the two smartest people you knew. _We’re doomed._

“I’m sorry I’m not much help,” said Theo. “I tried to read up on the voice you and Harry heard, but Quidditch has been keeping me busy and I haven’t had a lot of time between schoolwork and practices.” 

“You don’t have to apologize,” you said. “It’s not your job to be my personal assistant.” 

“Maybe not, but I like having stuff to talk to you about…” he trailed off, focusing on pulling blades of glass from the dirt. His cheeks were a bright shade of red. You smiled. 

Wednesday’s Potions lesson was an absolute disaster. You and Harry paired up to make your Drought of Forgetfulness and accidentally made your potion explode when you added the tubeworms. Snape forced you to stay behind to scrub every desk and wash the tubeworm guts from every surface. 

When you were done, you left the dungeons to meet Hermione and Ron in your History of Magic class. Hermione had been spending nearly every free second in the library trying to find information on the Chamber of Secrets ever since the attack. She was having no luck. You even tried to help her by using the spell you invented last year that would allow you to find any book with a flick of a wand, but no books came forward. This didn’t deter Hermione. In fact, it made her more determined than ever. 

You rounded a corridor with Harry and saw Justin Finch-Fletchley, a Hufflepuff from your Herbology class. Him and Lydia were walking side-by-side in their matching yellow robes. Justin caught sight of you and Harry, his eyes turned wide and he left as fast as he could. 

“What was that?” you asked Lydia. 

“Oh, it’s nothing,” she said. “It’s stupid, really.” 

“What is it?” asked Harry. 

“Well… you see… you know how rumors spread around here…” she started. 

“Spit it out,” you said. 

She sighed. 

“There’s a rumor going around that you and Harry are responsible for what happened on Halloween…” 

“That’s _impossible!”_ Harry gasped in shock. You would bet 10 Galleons that Filch was spreading the rumor about you and Harry around. 

“I don’t believe it, myself,” said Lydia. “I know you and Y/n, but some people will just believe anything.” 

“Why didn’t Theo tell me?” you asked. “We just saw each other the other day and he didn’t say a word about it. There’s no way he didn’t know about this.” 

“Well… he didn’t want to upset you…” 

“It’s a little bit too late for that,” you said, disappearing down the corridor to your final class of the day. 

You arrived at Professor Binns’ class in a particularly foul mood. If everyone wanted to believe you and Harry were in league together in some evil scheme, that was their problem. What bothered you was Theo’s dishonesty. _He could have said something when we were by the lake or when we were reading in the library. He had every opportunity to tell me._

You sat down beside Ron and Hermione, trying with little success to swallow your anger. You really needed to try to get a better handle on your emotions. You took out a quill and tried to take notes.

History of Magic was always the dullest class and today looked to be no different. Halfway through class, you were in the middle of a boring lecture on the International Warlock Convention when Hermione’s hand shot suddenly through the air. 

“Miss Granger?” said Professor Binns. 

“Excuse me, sir, but I was wondering if you could tell me anything about the Chamber of Secrets,” said Hermione. 

The mood in the room suddenly shifted. Seamus Finnigan, almost asleep, jerked awake. Lavender Brown stopped chewing her gum. 

“I teach History of Magic,” said Professor Binns in his monotone voice. “I deal with _facts_ , not myths and legends.” 

“But don’t legends have a basis in fact?” retorted Hermione. 

Professor Binns looked rather impressed with Hermione. He gave a sigh. 

“Alright, then. I suppose I can speak on it, but the legend is a rather _ludicrous_ tale. Let me see… the Chamber of Secrets…

“You all know that Hogwarts was founded over a thousand years ago, by four greatest witches and wizards of the age. The four Houses are named after them. There is Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin.” 

You froze, remembering the day Theo found you speaking Parseltongue in the Magical Menagerie in Diagon Alley. It was that very day you found out that your unique “gift” was a genetic trait straight from the Slytherin family tree. You leaned back into Professor Binns’ every word. 

“The four founders built this castle, away from Muggles. For a few years, the founders worked in harmony. They brought youngsters to the castle who showed signs of magic. Eventually, disagreements sprang up between them. Slytherin wished to be more selective about the students admitted to Hogwarts He believed that magic should only be taught to those born to all-magic families. He didn’t like taking students in from Muggle heritage. There was an argument between Slytherin and Gryffindor and Slytherin left the school. 

“The story of the Chamber of Secrets says that Slytherin sealed a chamber, the Chamber of Secrets, so that no one would be able to open it until his heir arrived at the school. The heir alone would be able to unseal the Chamber of Secrets and unleash the horror within. Those that believe in the legend believe that whatever is in the Chamber will be used to purge the school of those who are deemed unworthy to study magic. 

“The whole thing is absolute nonsense, of course,” Professor Binns finished.

“What do you mean by the ‘horror within?’” asked Dean Thomas. 

“It is believed that the Chamber holds some sort of monster, which the Heir of Slytherin alone can control.” 

“Do you have any idea who the heir could be?” said Seamus Finnigan. 

“It is hard to say… The heir would have to be related to Slytherin, but every pure-blood family is related one way or another.” A couple eyes flickered in your direction. “Although, Slytherin’s direct line died out years ago… Alas, it does not matter, the tale is ridiculous. There is no Chamber and there is no monster.” 

“But, sir,” said Lavender. “If the Chamber can only be opened by Slytherin’s true heir, no one else would be able to find it would they?” 

“Nonsense,” said Binns, getting aggravated. “It is a myth! There is no evidence Slytherin ever built so much as a secret broom cupboard! Now, let us return to history, to solid and believable _fact!”_

“I always knew Salazar Slytherin was a real loony,” said Ron, pushing through the crowded corridor. “But I never knew he started all this pure-blood stuff. I wouldn’t be in his house if you paid me. Honestly, if the Sorting Hat had tried to put me in Slytherin, I’d’ve got the train straight back home…” 

You thought back to the beginning of your first year at Hogwarts- to the Sorting Ceremony. The hat’s voice boomed in your head: _I see two destinies before you- both of which are great. However, they are two separate paths. You possess a bravery admired by Gryffindors, but a sharp cunning coveted in Slytherin and I see generations of Slytherins before you and generations after… Where to put you?_

Spoiler alert: the hat put you in Gryffindor. Somehow it believed Gryffindor would set you on the path to your rightful destiny, whatever that was… But now you weren’t too certain Gryffindor was the right place for you. You were a descendant of Salazar Slytherin _himself_ and what destiny is great enough to fight against the bonds of blood? 

You still hadn’t told Hermione, Ron, and Harry about the day you found out more about your lineage, because you were afraid they would look at you exactly the same way Theo had when he found out. You remembered the look of confusion and worst of all, _terror_ on his face and you knew you couldn’t stand for them to look at you the same. What if they thought you were no better than Malfoy? Worst of all, what if they thought _you_ were the heir of Slytherin? _Being related to Salazar Slytherin won’t automatically make me the heir of Slytherin, will it? I_ **_know_ ** _it wasn’t me who Petrified Mrs. Norris, but the voices Harry and I heard are more than a little bit suspicious…_

“Hey, Harry!” a high-pitched voice broke you from your trance. It was Colin Creevy, Muggle camera in tow. 

“Hey, Colin,” Harry mumbled. 

“Harry- Harry- a boy in my class has been saying you and Y/n-” Colin was trying to get it out, but he was swept up by the large crowd of students. 

“What’s a boy in his class saying about you?” Hermione inquired. 

“Probably that Harry and I are behind whatever went down with Mrs. Norris,” you said. 

“Why’s it just us?” Harry asked. “I just mean- Hermione and Ron were there with us and nobody is accusing them of Petrifying Mrs. Norris.” 

“Blimey, it’s obvious, isn’t it?” said Ron, elbowing his way past a fifth year towards one of the many moving staircases. “Everyone thinks it’s Harry because he took down You-Know-Who and that must’ve taken a great deal of magic and people must think it’s you, too, Y/n, because nobody likes your family- except Slytherins, of course. There’s not a witch or a wizard who doesn’t know about how your family cheated their way up in the Ministry and joined You-Know-Who the second they got the chance. It’s a family full of loonies (no offense, obviously). And then you come along and you can do spells most of us second years can’t and you do alright in Defense Against the Dark Arts. It’s a wonder you’re not in Slytherin with the rest of them. Honestly, the two of you were just the most obvious targets.” 

“I was a _baby_ ,” said Harry. “I didn’t intentionally do _anything_ to Voldemort.” 

“We know,” said Hermione. 

You took another staircase and rounded a corner, finding yourself in the very same corridor the attack had taken place. 

“Can’t hurt to look around,” suggested Harry, who dropped to his knees. You followed suit. 

“Come look at this!” said Hermione moments later. “This is funny…” 

You crossed the corridor to the window next to where the bloody message was written. Hermione pointed to the top pane, where twenty spiders were fighting to get through a small crack. 

“Have you ever seen spiders act like that?” said Hermione. 

“No,” said Harry. “Have you Ron? Ron?” 

Ron was standing with his back to the window, trembling. 

“I don’t like spiders,” he said. 

Hermione and Harry went on teasing Ron, but you were still surveying the scene. 

“Hey guys, wasn’t there water here?” you asked, pointing to the ground. “It was all over the place. Where did it come from?” 

You looked around and it hit you. 

“Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom,” you said. You caught Hermione’s eye- she was thinking the same thing. 

You reached for the doorknob to Myrtle’s toilet. 

“We can’t go in there,” said Ron. “It’s a girl’s toilet.” 

“Oh, Ron, there won’t be anyone in there. That’s Moaning Myrtle’s place. Come on, let’s have a look,” said Hermione. 

You opened the door on the dingy, out-of-order bathroom. You walked to the end of the stalls and knocked. The door flew open. Myrtle was inside, picking a spot on her chin. 

“Hi, Myrtle,” you greeted. 

“This is a girl’s bathroom,” she said, completely ignoring you and eyeing Ron and Harry. “They’re not girls.” 

“We were wondering if you saw anything,” said Harry. “A cat was attacked right outside your door on Halloween. Did you see anyone near here that night?” 

“I wasn’t paying attention. Peeves upset me so much that I came in here and tried to kill myself. Then, of course, I remembered that I’m- that I’m-” 

“Already dead,” suggested Ron. 

This did not help Myrtle at all, for she gave a great wail and disappeared headfirst into the toilet. 

“We’re not going to get anything else out of her, let’s just go,” you said. 

You ate dinner that night at a fast pace, hoping to avoid Theo in the dining hall. You were still mad at him for not telling you about the school's newfound hatred of you and Harry. You almost got lucky in your attempt to avoid him, until you bumped straight into him. 

“Oof,” he said, stumbling back. 

“I’m not that heavy,” you mumbled. _Seriously, he acts like he was just tackled by a 200 pound linebacker._ You tried to press on through the crowd towards your common room, but he gently grabbed your arm. You glanced at his fingers curled around your tricep. He followed your gaze and abruptly dropped his hand from your upper arm. 

“Lydia told me about- er- about well- about you being mad at me,” he stuttered out. 

“Yes, I am mad at you- very good observation, Sherlock.” 

“I- I’m not very good at this- but I’m- er- I’m sorry.” 

“You should have told me,” you said. 

“I know.” 

“You, Lydia, and Braedan share everything together but neither of you can be bothered to tune me in,” you complained. 

“It’s not intentional, you’re just always off with Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Do you ever bother to tune us in on what _you’re_ up to?” said Theo. 

“That’s completely different and completely _not true.”_

“Okay, then- did you tell us about the Philosopher’s Stone last year?” he asked. You nodded your head, remembering the day you rehashed the story of your fight with Voldemort last year in the hospital wing. “Not until _after_ it happened,” he insisted. 

“Okay, but you’re still the _only one_ who knows about the whole Parseltongue situation,” you whispered, making sure nobody could overhear. “I don’t intentionally keep you in the dark.” 

“And neither do we. I mean- we did this time, but only because we thought it didn’t matter what other people thought, as long as _we knew_ it wasn’t the truth.” 

“Fine,” you grumbled. “You’re forgiven… for now.” 

  
  


You were in the common room later that night, doing your homework for Defense Against the Dark Arts, but you found it exceptionally hard to focus. Your brain kept going back to the Chamber of Secrets and your discussion during your History of Magic class. You slammed your textbook shut in exasperation and you were surprised to see Hermione do the same. 

“Who can the heir be, though?” said Hermione. “Who’d _want_ to frighten all Squibs and Muggle-borns out of Hogwarts.” 

“Let’s think,” said Ron. “Who do we know who thinks Muggle-borns are scum? That could only be Draco Malfoy.” 

“Malfoy, the Heir of Slytherin?” Hermione said in disbelief. 

“Look at his family, the whole lot of them have been in Slytherin. I bet they could easily be Slytherin’s descendants. His father is definitely evil enough,” chimed in Harry. 

You felt your cheeks burn. You could definitely see Malfoy being related to Slytherin, but the thought of you two being related made you feel sick to your stomach- especially when your potential common ancestor was such a vile wizard. 

“They could’ve had the key to the Chamber of Secrets for centuries! Handing it down father to son…” said Ron. 

“I know how we could prove it,” said Hermione. “What we need to do is get inside the Slytherin common room and ask Malfoy a few questions without him realizing it’s us. All we need is some Polyjuice Potion. Polyjuice Potion transforms you into somebody else. Just think about it! We could change into four of the Slytherins and nobody would know it was us. Malfoy would probably tell us anything. He’s probably boasting about it in the Slytherin common room right now!” 

“That’s brilliant!” you said. 

“Getting a hold of the recipe will be difficult. The book it’s in is bound to be in the Restricted Section of the library, one of the teachers will have to sign,” Hermione said. 

“What teacher would be dumb enough to sign for it?” asked Ron. 

“I can think of one,” you said, picturing Gildeory Lockhart in his ridiculous purple robes. 


	8. A Story Update

Hello, everyone! I have an update some of you may like and others may not... I’ve done more planning for the rest of the fanfic and I’ve fleshed out more characters. My only is problem is that as I flesh out the characters, I really want to flesh out the “reader” character more but I find I really can’t because the “reader” is supposed to be a stand-in for well... the readers! I’ve decided to rework the series from Part One and fix some plot-holes and writing errors (most of the plot will be the same, but a few scenes will be added). I’m also changing the “reader” to an original character. I believe it will make more stuff fall into place. I hope you all understand! Thank you everyone for reading. I’m planning on reposting Part One when it’s completely done in about a week from now. Thank you again!


	9. An Update

So I've updated the first part of the series with the first chapter rewritten. Let me know what you think and thank you for reading!


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